


A Burn I Can't Soothe

by Anonymous



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Daddy Kink, Dirty Talk, I'm Going to Hell, Incest, M/M, Malfoycest (Harry Potter), Manipulative Scorpius, Masturbation, Parent-Child Relationship, Parent/Child Incest, Riding, Rimming, Voyeurism, don't board this sin train unless you know where it's headed, he's a little bit Kathryn Merteuil, heed the tags, hell... that's where it's headed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-17
Updated: 2019-05-17
Packaged: 2020-03-06 15:26:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18853828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Scorpius turns his head to the door, an unhurried movement, a calculated one that lets me know he’s been aware of my presence since I arrived. It shouldn’t be a surprise. He’s as attuned to me as I am to him. We’re in each other’s blood.Draco has always found it hard to refuse Scorpius, no matter what he's asking for.





	A Burn I Can't Soothe

**Author's Note:**

  * For [unpetaled](https://archiveofourown.org/users/unpetaled/gifts).



> Well... what can I say haha? I worked out some weirdness in this, and forgive me, for I have SINNED.

“Kiss it better? Like you used to?”

He spreads his lovely legs, milky-white and smooth as a shiny pebble spit forth from the ocean, its surface beaten into beauty from the power of the waves. He’s wearing a loose button-down with all the buttons undone, black and too large for him, most likely pilfered from my closet, and tight black briefs that outline his erection with lewd detail. He’s as purely beautiful as any of nature’s wonders, the heart-stopping kind of sight that makes one’s breath die on one’s tongue, a softening of your eyes that you feel as it happens, a surge spreading through your blood that he’s aware of the very moment it occurs. He knows. He always knows.

Scorpius has always been a dangerously incisive boy, cunning and brash with the intellect to back up his self-assurance. He is a force to contend with, his mind always five steps ahead of most. His behavior has been known to be nearly Machiavellian. When he was thirteen, Scorpius seduced a classmate into stripping and letting Scorpius truss him up like a piece of meat for the taking, the poor boy barely grasping the meaning of it. He was far more childish than Scorpius, a “normal” young teen concerned with much more innocent pursuits like catching frogs in ponds and the headrush of rolling down a steep hill in the balmy spring air.

To his classmate, I imagine it only seemed like a progression from the innocuous youthful games of doctor and nurse, exploring how bodies worked with a healthy curiosity. Scorpius took pictures of him and used them as blackmail all year long in exchange for the use of the boy’s family’s summer home, converting it into his own hedonistic retreat. When I found out about all this, Scorpius fixed me with a bored look, his long legs draped over the arms of a chair, his white-blond hair fanning out over the other side, and said, “One cannot draw water from an empty well, Father. You taught me that. If people allow themselves to be manipulated, they get what they deserve. It’s  _ weak.”  _

I watch my son, my terrifyingly alluring son, stretch one lithe calf toward me, resting his foot atop my thigh and presenting his skinned knee as he smiles at me, nothing remotely innocent in the expression. His eyes sparkle with mischief, eyes that are so very like my own. I am sometimes overcome by the notion that he is my evil twin and will eclipse me one day, living my life in my stead after he has pushed me aside and taken over. 

I want to walk away. I want to push his leg off mine with a snarl and tell him I know what he’s doing, but I can’t. To do that would be to acknowledge that if I press my lips to his wounded flesh, I will feel what he wants me to feel. If I protest, I will be admitting that I can’t kiss his perfect knee with the caring, unproblematic love of a father tending to his son. That is the genius of Scorpius. He knows your every weakness and how to exploit it without even breaking a sweat. The effort is all on your clumsy part. He gives you the rope, and you hang yourself with it.

Still, I have to try. I have to steel my resolve, turn my blood into iron and beat him at this game. With a shaky breath that I know he sees, his smile widening into a triumphant smirk, I bend down and press my lips to the blood-mottled skin. For a second, the moment expands into an eternity, time slowing to a torturous crawl, the blood beating like an angry throb in my ears, the fireplace radiating unbearable heat, sweat beading on the back of my neck, the sound of my own breath like the rollicking unrest of a stormy sea. 

Scorpius moans, a soft but undeniable noise, and his hand cradles my cheek, his thigh leaning outward in an effort to coax my lips further down. With a sharp, scolding scowl that I am proud to see still has a bit of an impact, no matter how grown and devious he may be now, his eyes still flickering with disappointment and the sting of reproach, I snap to a standing position and begin to walk away. The look in his eyes reminds me of the crestfallen little boy he used to be, back when being denied extra sweets after dinner was the height of his dismay. I wonder how we got from there to here, the both of us, and it turns my stomach. 

“Stay. I need— ”

“You need nothing, Scorpius. You’re nearly eighteen and more than a capable wizard. You can heal a scraped knee.” I keep my voice clipped and detached, the practised Malfoy mask falling over my features. My father may have been a neglectful bastard, but at least he taught me the value of a good poker face. 

“I love you, Daddy,” he purrs as I leave, and the word feels like a weapon. I curse my legs for halting of their own accord, my hand gripping the doorframe like a lifeline. “Aren’t you going to say it back? Or don’t you love me anymore?”

It’s a test on so many levels, it makes my brain dizzy. This is how he operates. He’s never merely trying to catch you in  _ one _ trap. His minefields are plentiful, the ground littered with waiting explosions of all kinds. With a clenched jaw, I slowly turn around, maintaining my cool expression.

“Of course, darling. I’ll always love you.” 

His face falls at the nonchalance in my voice, the heat he was hoping for missing, and I leave the room before the panic can return to my face.

  
  


***   
  


“I had a nightmare,” he says, not even bothering to affect any faux innocence, his eyes gleaming and dangerous. We’ve moved so far past that now. His impatience is growing. What he doesn’t seem to understand yet is that, as good as he is at what he does, if there’s one person in this world who can best him, it’s me. I made him. I know him inside and out. I can see him coming from a mile away. 

His chest is bare, moonlight glinting off his pale hair, the sheet gathered about his waist and strategically dipping in a semi-circle, showing his navel and the subtle, graceful concave where his stomach meets his hips. He’s delectable, and I hate how my cock twitches at the sight.

“Get. Out,” I grit out, not daring to come any closer.

“Why? Am I too old for you to comfort me? You don’t care if I sleep well, Father?” He bats his pretty eyelashes and smirks, that curling of lips that is so familiar, plucked from our gene pool and passed down for generations. Standing on the other side of it, I’m starting to see just how maddening it can be. He stretches an arm behind his head, teasing the sheets further down until I can see the beginning of a nest of golden hair. An image flashes across my mind of my face nuzzling against it, the hair tickling my cheek as I breathe in his distinctive scent, my tongue laving that creamy ivory skin, circling the base of his cock as he moans— 

“Yes, you are too old. You will sleep in your own bed tonight just as you’ve done for many years.”

“And how am I to leave if you keep blocking the doorway?” He clucks his tongue once, an evil little laugh escaping his moist pink lips. As I cross my arms and step aside, he rises from the bed, and my mouth falls open before I can collect myself. Have I failed to turn away quickly enough to evade this or did I simply not  _ want _ to turn away? Scorpius’s cock, hard and jutting proudly from that thatch of trimmed blond hair, is bobbing as he walks toward me, calm and confident as can be, and I realize I’ve done precisely what he wanted. 

I always do.

“Goodnight, Father,” he croons, running a hand over my arm as he passes by, the brief contact like a match lighting a trail of gunpowder, a lightning fast reaction I’m powerless to stop. 

At least I don’t give him the satisfaction of knowing I turned around to watch his pert little arse retreating. I hear his footsteps stop in the hallway, no doubt craning his neck in hopes of catching me in the act, but I’m not there.

  
  


***

  
  


“Unnhh,  _ Scorpius.”  _

I can hear Albus Potter, my son’s fortunate (unfortunate) boyfriend, moaning and grunting as Scorpius fucks him, and of course I know it’s no accident. They’re both very talented wizards, and this is a deliberate violation of boundaries, wards left down, no silencing charms erected. The question is whether or not Albus is privy to this.

I’m betting it’s all Scorpius’s doing. Albus is a very sweet boy, too sweet for my son, in fact. I’ve always wondered what the attraction was, but perhaps they balance one another out. Perhaps the clever, wiliness draws Albus in like a siren song. Perhaps Albus is too deliciously ripe for corruption for Scorpius to resist. Sometimes I do see a glint of something conspiratorial and dark between them, their attractive heads huddled together as they whisper and smile at one another. There’s a mysterious partners-in-crime aura surrounding them that I’ve never quite figured out, so different and yet so fitted together, bound like ivy to a trellis, the ties growing stronger as the vines climb higher, wrapping around and around until you can no longer see the posts underneath. He’s the only person Scorpius is truly close with, and I’ve taken some comfort in that in these later years, as Scorpius has grown more devious and removed from his peers.

“You’re so good for me, Al. Always taking my cock so well,” Scorpius murmurs, husky and tender yet fierce and commanding, and it stirs something so primal within me that I’m barely conscious of my hand drifting to my cock. 

They’re only a room away, one wall separating us, our open doors ushering the sound in, and it’s so close but too far and I want so badly to see it. I can picture Albus on his stomach, the dip of his lower back, his shoulders pinching together as he arches into it, Scorpius’s bruising grip on his hips as he fucks into him, deep and punishing strokes. Eager for my cock to be free, I shuck my pants off and stroke it furiously, my cheeks crimson in shame but the mortification spurring me on as I hear Albus’s moans growing more feverish, his wanton chorus of  _ fuck me fuck me Scorpius yes yes  _ the most arousing melody I’ve ever heard. When I hear Scorpius’s possessive growl as he tells Albus  _ you’re mine, _ the groan that escapes my throat is so loud and guttural, I wonder if they’ve heard me. Surely they can’t. Not over their own carnal call and response, the obscene slapping of flesh against flesh that is making me harder than I’ve been in years. I’m wanking to the sound of my son fucking his boyfriend into the mattress, and it feels so good that I can’t be bothered to care anymore. In fact, it’s a heady relief as satisfying as a long, cool drink of water on a humid summer day.

“You want him to catch us, don’t you? Want him to see your tight little arse getting fucked so hard as you just  _ beg _ me for it?”

“Yes,  _ Gods _ yes.” 

Well… it appears I have my answer now. Perhaps the Potter boy is every bit as deviant as my son: razorblades wrapped in the pretty slick sheen of a candy apple. Without wasting another second, I get out of bed and make my way to the door, hesitating for a moment. I suppose I’m waiting for my conscience to kick in, that small voice in the back of my mind that’s been growing steadily weaker with every attempt Scorpius makes to eradicate my reservations, to lure me into this gnarled, ugly thing that’s been growing between us for longer than I care to admit. 

I’m tired of resisting. I’m tired of suppressing this urge that keeps cascading over me, one tidal wave after another that feels so much bigger than me, bigger than anything I’ve ever known. I know that’s what he wants, what he’s wanted all along, to wear me down and dissolve my defenses one by one, but suddenly winning no longer feels important. Neither does proving that I’m better than this. 

I’m not. 

He knows it. 

We’ve both known it for at least a year. 

As I get closer, the sounds of their sex so loud now it feels as if I’m in the room already, my heart threatens to beat out of my chest, an irresistible mixture of fear and excitement propelling me forward until… there they are, sweat glistening in the moonlight, their young, agile bodies moving together. Scorpius is exactly as I pictured him, hips pistoning behind Albus as he pushes back onto Scorpius’s cock. 

I look down as though I’ve forgotten I’m naked, my own sizable hardness a taboo made manifest as I stand there watching them. It doesn’t take long for my hand to wrap around it, pumping quickly, trying to outrun my own abashment. It’s like I might be able to forget all of this if I come fast enough, if it’s over in the blink of an eye and I retreat back to my room like a hideous creature to his cave, but I know that’s not true. I’ll never be able to forget this as long as I live, and that thought is both enticing and haunting. 

My hand is working my cock so furiously, I know I won’t last long. And how could I when Scorpius is on his knees behind Albus, drilling into him like—

Scorpius turns his head to the door, an unhurried movement, a calculated one that lets me know he’s been aware of my presence since I arrived. It shouldn’t be a surprise. He’s as attuned to me as I am to him. We’re in each other’s blood. He looks at me, and he’s so remarkable, sculpted like a Greek statue forged as an ode to youth, every curve, every ripple of lean muscle so utterly flawless. He’s much handsomer than I am, than I ever was. My hand stills on my cock, my teeth sinking into my bottom lip to stifle any sounds of pleasure that might betray me. It hardly matters anymore, but I’m still clinging to some semblance of denial, some kernel of need to convince myself that I’m not the reprehensible creature I am, standing in the doorway to my son’s bedroom, my fist enclosing my cock as he fixes me with a lurid, longing look, his posture elongating as if to say  _ look at how magnificent I am.  _

“Look at you,” he says in a sultry whisper, and Albus groans, his face pressed into the pillow, blissfully unaware of what’s happening. 

My hand starts moving again, my gaze frozen. I want to look away, but I can’t. Scorpius licks his lips, his line of sight traveling from my eyes to my hand.

“Call me Draco.” 

At that, my hand stutters again, but I whimper, so hard and aching I can barely stand it.

“Mmm?” Albus questions, too delirious from the glorious fucking he’s receiving to properly form a question.

“Do it,” Scorpius demands, his eyes hard as they snap back to mine. 

“Draco  _ Draco,” _ Albus chants in an exquisite whine that makes me unsure who I envy more at the moment. 

I don’t know whether Scorpius wants me to picture myself in his place, sinking my cock into Albus’s tight heat, or if he wants me to imagine himself in Albus’s place, Scorpius taking all I can give him as I set an unforgiving pace. I silently curse myself for not putting together the obvious: he wants both of these things. He wants me to want it  _ all. _

Scorpius reaches around to clasp Albus’s cock, rewarded with a desperate moan from the boy as he begins to wank him. I’m panting now, uncaring for whether Albus might lift his sex-drunk head and see me. I can feel the flush overtaking my neck, and Scorpius can’t stop looking at me like me wants to taste every inch of me. His hand speeds up on Albus’s cock, and I follow along, matching the pace and chasing my own climax.

“Come for me,” Scorpius instructs, and once again, Albus thinks it’s only meant for him, no idea of my looming presence as my son and I share this private, searing gaze that is threatening to rip me in two. “Come for me,” he repeats, more insistently, and I do, my mouth falling open in a soundless scream, my come spurting hot and sticky on my hand. It’s a euphoric high; I don’t know if it’s ever felt that good before or if it’s just been so long that I’ve forgotten. 

Albus follows almost immediately, his slender body jerking as he spills onto the bed with a strangled cry, and Scorpius groans deeply, no doubt reveling in the sensation of his boyfriend’s walls clenching around his cock. I’m coming down from my orgasmic haze, growing as cold as the semen clinging to my hand, and I want to turn on my heel and run, but I’m rooted to the spot, transfixed by Scorpius, dazzling, brilliant Scorpius staring at me while his grip tightens on Albus’s hips. When he empties inside him, his lovely mouth open on a frantic series of moans, it’s my name on his lips. He doesn’t speak it, but I see the unmistakable formation of the word. 

I’ve never been this scared, and considering the life I’ve had, that’s really saying something.

  
  


***

  
  


“Fancy a ride?”

I nearly jump at the sound of his voice, that seductive rumble that makes it easy to understand how he could charm anyone into bed. 

I’ve been avoiding him for a week, successfully finding a litany of excuses to be out of the house whenever he’s here. I knew it wouldn’t work forever, but at least I bought myself some time to think. Not that it’s made a bit of difference. I’m just as hopelessly fucked up as I was a week ago, climaxing to the sight of Scorpius buried inside Albus.

With a measured breath, I turn around to see Scorpius looking stately in his riding clothes. He wears his jodhpurs tailored slimmer than most men do. I’ve always found it rather fetching on him, but now it’s attractive in an entirely different way, his boots reaching the top of his elegant calves. I want to grab him by the lapels of his black jacket and bend him over the desk. I think about his arse growing red under the blows of a riding crop, and I’m amazed at my voice when it comes out steady.

“No, thank you. I have work to do, but it’s a lovely day. See to it that you enjoy it.” I smile, a hollow gesture of perfunctory social grace, and I can see the anger flickering across his silver eyes. 

“You can’t avoid me forever, Father.” It comes out rushed and petulant, and I spot the moment when he realizes he’s losing his composure. Scorpius hates not to have the upperhand. After all, he is my child. He straightens his spine, chin lifting high, and stares at me, unblinking.

“I will not have this conversation.” I speak carefully, my cadence unhurried and my pitch stern. I’m not to be trifled with, but he doesn’t care. He loses his control almost as quickly as he regained it. 

“You lost the right to refuse to have this conversation when you stood in that doorway.”

Well played. 

“Yes, a mistake I won’t be repeating. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” I turn my back on him, and he closes the distance between us, yanking on my arm until I’m facing him. 

“Why won’t you let yourself have this? You know I want it too so why are you still fighting it? Ever since mother died you— ”

“Kindly leave her name out of this, Scorpius.” I don’t want to think about Astoria at this moment. My shame needs no compounding. My blood is boiling now, and I almost slap him across the face. But I don’t. I’ve never hit him, and I don’t plan on starting now.

“She’s been gone for so many years, and yet you still…” He sighs and pushes a hand through his hair. His cheekbones are even higher than mine, the sharp Malfoy jawline making him look like a model rather the angular oddity it made me look like at his age. “You’ve never really let yourself be happy again.”

“And you think she’d want me to be happy like _this?_ With you?! Can you imagine if she were alive to see this?” I’m hissing with fury, but I know that, in some warped way, he’s right. For years, my only companionship in the bedroom has been a quick, dirty fuck here and there, and even that… it’s been so long, I can’t remember when I last brought someone to bed. After Astoria, I wanted to focus on raising Scorpius, to be the best father I could so he would never feel that acute sense of something missing. I didn’t want him to grow up feeling alone. Looking at him now, I’m not sure how well that turned out. 

“She’s  _ not _ alive to see it. No one is here to see it, Father. So why does it matter to you so much? Whose approval do you need?” His sudden vulnerability is alarming, and I don’t know what to do with it.

“Do you really want this? Or are you simply addicted to the sick satisfaction that comes with victory? Do you just live to  _ conquer, _ Scorpius? Is that what this is?” It’s a genuine question. I’m not sure if I’m a conquest like all the others. He has a manipulative streak that runs so deep and so wide, it’s hard to tell.

We’re sizing each other up like opponents in a boxing ring, and the emotion slips away, replaced by that formidable gaze of his. The one that undoubtedly has made many a classmate cower in fear. 

“Why not both?” he drawls with a sinister smile. It’s an altogether expected answer. He is my boy, after all, but then he surprises me, his expression softening as he strokes his thumb along my jaw. “You love me for what I am, Father. You don’t care that I’m…  _ wrong _ .”

“You’re not wrong, Scorpius,” I reassure him, my heart swelling with love as I lay my hand over top of his. Of course I love him the way he is. He’s my son. His jagged edges and misshapen parts are my own too. They come from me.

“Do you love me?” he asks, his arms looping around my waist. I melt into it straightaway. It feels so good to be touched by him. It always does, and my anger is receding because all I want at that moment is to make him feel safe and cared for.

“You know I— ”

“Say it.” He holds me closer until our chests are flush. I let myself cradle his shoulders. He’s so near that I can count every one of his long eyelashes, and I think I would take just that, if it was all he gave me. Just standing this close and gazing at him feels like an honor. He has that effect.

“I love you, Scorpius,” I confess, my breath ghosting over his lips, and it feels like an avowal, the likes of which I’ve never made before. Not with anyone. Not like this.

“I love you too,” he responds, his eyes darting to my lips. “Why should anyone else get to decide how we love each other? I think that should be between you and me, don’t you agree?”

I’m still not sure if I’ve lost my mind, but at that moment, it seems like the most compelling argument of them all. 

And I’m tired. 

So very, very tired, and he’s so very, very perfect. 

I cradle his face in my hands, and his eyes shutter closed with a contented sigh. I lean forward, and for a moment we’re just sharing the same air, both breathing in and out, the anticipation so thick I can taste it. He’s the first to turn it into a proper kiss, his lips pressing tentatively to mine in a chaste gesture made all the sweeter by the fact that he’s been so resolute up to now. It’s endearing to see that he’s slightly worried about being rejected, and it ebbs my misgivings just enough to make me kiss him back, moistening his lips with my tongue. He gasps his way through it, awestruck sounds as though he can’t believe it’s finally happening, and when I crash our mouths together, my hands threading in his hair as I lap at his tongue, he moans into my mouth and grinds against me, his hands cupping my arse. 

I start backing him toward the door, unable to take my hands off him for a single second. A threshold has been crossed, and I can’t stuff the beast back into its prison. Scorpius’s back hits the wall, and he moans, tugging on my hair while I assault his neck with kisses and tender bites. He smells like the brisk country air outside and the bergamot and vetiver of that French cologne I bought him for his birthday last year, specially made for him, the only batch of its kind. When I gave it to him, he dabbed it on his pulse point and leaned in so I could smell it on him, asking for my approval with a salacious grin. Maybe this all began before then; I can’t be sure, but that’s the traceable moment for me, the moment I knew something had shifted for both of us.

Now that I’m allowed to, now that he’s asking and I’ve let myself obey, I worship that long neck, nuzzling and licking until I’ve had my fill, my senses dizzy. I sink to my knees and work at his belt, pulling his jodhpurs and pants down around his thighs. He’s whispering  _ Gods yes please, _ and when I hazard a glance up at him, it’s all I can do not to die right there on the spot, knelt before him as I look at his flushed cheeks and tousled hair. He looks thoroughly debauched, and we haven’t even begun yet. 

We’re both breathing hard, and there’s been no exertion at all. Just the knowledge of the impending release, that resolution of intense sexual tension, is about to kill us both. When I take him in hand, he whimpers, his lips trembling. I look straight into his eyes when I bathe the head in my spit, just licking and sucking the very tip until I can tell he wants to thrust forward and force my mouth down the length. Not one to deny him anything he wants, I oblige, taking him in one slick, effortless slide. He looks impressed, and he should be. I’ve always been unmatched at this, can always relax my throat and take everything I’m given, but when he latches onto the back of my head and starts to thrust, I pin his hips to the wall and pull off with a wet pop. 

“Don’t. You’re not making the rules. Not today.”

He whines but nods, and I stand up and spin him around, admiring his arse. I run my hands all over the smooth, unmarred skin, and I can see him quiver with the effort not to move, his fingers clawing at the wall.  

“Spread your legs,” I tell him, my voice barely recognize to me. It’s throaty and filled with raw need. 

He swiftly obeys, and I sink down once again, spreading his cheeks and licking across his hole, so pretty pink and puckered. He tastes divine, and I knew he would. I’m trying to preserve some remnant of control, but I can’t help the sounds that keep ripping from deep within me as I eat him out, making him so fucking wet that saliva starts to drip down my chin. Scorpius isn’t any more collected than me; he’s panting and begging for  _ more don’t stop _ and eventually starts bucking back into my face, twisting around and bracing his hand on the back of my head to pull me closer.

I like it.

I like him forcing my tongue deep inside his arse, but it won’t do to let him think he’s in charge. I pull away and give each cheek two good, hard smacks, not missing the way his wince fades into a blissful look, the flush on his face deepening. “Pull your pants up.”

I start down the hall without another word, and when he doesn’t follow, I turn my head and call over my shoulder, “Are you coming? Or do you need more explicit instruction?”

He appears around the corner, finishing up with his belt, relief in his eyes as he heaves out a long sigh. 

He thought I was going to leave him like that. 

Maybe I should, but I can’t. 

The walk to my bedroom doesn’t take more than two minutes, but it feels interminable. Long enough to change both our minds and allow the insanity of the situation to sink in, but when I turn around, he’s still there and still eager. He’s determined but nervous. I can tell by the way he’s smiling slightly, his eyes roaming my body but not able to meet my own for more than a couple seconds at a time.

“Are you sure?” I have to ask.

“Beyond sure. Afraid you’ll change your mind though.” He strides forward and kisses me, brutal and loving all at once. “Let me touch you.”

I nod and begin to undress. He does the same and watches me like a hawk, a ravenous blaze in his eyes when he sees my cock springing free. I sit on the edge of the bed, and I don’t have to ask. He’s on his knees immediately, hands stroking my thighs, eyes reverently closed as he rubs his cheek against my cock. He’s as thin as I was at that age but with more elegance. He’s softer. I was all jagged angles. I didn’t grow into my frame until later, but he’s the loveliest creature and he’s worshipping me in ways I don’t deserve. 

There’s a narcissism in my attraction to his body, and I should be more sickened by it than I am, but I take comfort in the fact that I’m not alone. I see in the wicked smile he gives me when he starts to suck that he’s firmly entrenched in that feeling too. Loosely wrapping my hand around his throat, I push him away until the head is just barely brushing his lips. I expect defiance, but he just lets his mouth fall open and waits. I trace the shape of his mouth with my engorged prick, and his tongue laps at a drop of precome that squeezes out. 

“Does Albus love it when you suck him? Does he tell you how perfect your mouth is?”

“Of course he does.” Scorpius smirks, never breaking eye contact as he swallows my shaft, nosing in my pubic hair, his hands still braced on my thighs. He makes the tightest, hottest seal with his mouth and works my cock so expertly, my eyes roll back in my head. He sucks like I do, and the thought shouldn’t flatter my ego, but it does. I hate how in love I am with this whirlwind of shameful feelings, but I am. “You loved watching me fuck him.”

“He’s an absolute slut for your cock, isn’t he?” My fingers find their way into the soft strands of hair at the back of his head. He shouldn’t look so angelic on his knees for me, but he does.

“Gods yes, he needs it. Needs me to fuck him good and hard. Bend him over and pull his hair.” Scorpius kisses my stomach, making his way up my chest, flicking a nipple with the tip of his tongue. “Did you want to join us that night? Do you  _ still _ want to?”

Doubt sweeps back in, and I can tell he feels me stiffen because he stops kissing my skin, straddles my lap and holds my face in his hands.

“Stop thinking this is a ploy that’s about something else. It’s only about  _ you _ . You’re not a pawn to me. You’re  _ everything, _ and I need you.” Sincerity is rare for Scorpius, but I know what it looks like and I see it in the flecks of blue in his irises right now, the softening of the corners of his mouth. “If you only want this… just me alone, trust me when I say won’t be complaining. But,” the devious grin returns, “I know he’d  _ love _ for you to fuck him, and I’m fairly certain he’d faint from watching us together.”

My pulse beats thickly at the thought. Albus is no Scorpius, but he’s still delicious. I wouldn’t mind a turn with him. 

“Mmm, tell me you wouldn’t want to watch us taking turns licking your cock, lapping up your come and licking it from each other’s mouths— ”

“Merlin’s fucking tits, how depraved are you?” It comes out prouder than I intend for it to.

He laughs as he nips at my neck and grinds down in my lap, the friction of our cocks together eliciting groans from both of us.

“I’m about to finally feel your cock inside my arse, and you think  _ that’s _ the most depraved idea I’ve had?” He laughs, and this time it isn’t a scheming sound. It’s a carefree laugh, much more genuine amusement than a situation like this calls for. The anguish must show on my face because the laughter stops, and he takes us both in hand, his palm on the back of my neck, tilting my gaze downward. “See how amazing we look together? Please don’t take it back now.”

I won’t. My whole body is on fire at the thought of him on his back for me. I grip his arse and flip us over until he’s in that position, trying to suppress the way it brings back memories of lifting him like that when he was a boy, how easy it still is. I’m stronger than him; I’ve kept my body in good shape although I’ve never been sure why. Loneliness is vast, and I suppose running endless miles of wooded trails felt like a way to stave it off.

“I’m not a little boy anymore,” he whispers, and I detest how easily he reads me. He used to finish my sentences. I imagine he still could; he probably refrains as a courtesy, giving me a small illusion of privacy. I know he sees right to the core of me. We wouldn’t be here if he didn’t.

I know I should stop. Tell him that his age doesn’t matter. I’m his guardian. I’m supposed to protect him not take him to bed, but I know he’ll volley back with more premeditated persuasion. He’s better at this than I am, and I will lose. After all, it’s really Scorpius’s game we’re playing, isn’t it? I’m only at the helm for now because he  _ let _ me be. It’s amateurish of me to forget that.

I wandlessly slick his entrance, and he squirms delightedly. I could say a preparation spell, loosen him with my magic, but I want to feel him. That desire is overriding the sense of urgency for now, so I gently push inside with two fingers, and Scorpius bends his legs back. He’s spread open so obscenely wide for me, I could come just from the sight of it. 

“No need to be delicate with me, Draco.” The self-satisfied smile is back as he runs his hands down my chest, plucking at my nipples as he makes his way to my cock. He plays with the foreskin, teasing me just enough to stoke the fire. “Can I call you that or do you prefer ‘Father’? ‘Sir,’ perhaps?”

I avert my eyes, my fingers probing inside him until I find his prostate. The way he arches off the bed and squeezes my sides when I hit it is the most wonderful reward. It silences him but not for long.

“Fuck me, Daddy,” he moans, grabbing my wrist and pushing the pace of my fingers. I try to conceal my reaction, but there’s no running from him. “That’s the one, isn’t it?” he purrs with a chuckle. “And you say I’m depraved.”

Abruptly, the heat leaves the room, and I’m not sure desire is strong enough to push away the current of doubt. I remove my fingers, but he clutches at me, wrapping his legs around my waist and pulling me on top of him.

“Don’t leave.  _ Please. _ I’m sorry I mocked you. I’ll call you whatever you like. I was just having a bit of fun, but I don’t want to upset you, okay? Really, I don’t.” He kisses my cheeks and then my lips. So soft, so sweet. 

“Scorpius, I… what if you realize you were wrong? What if, after it’s over, you— ”

“I’m not the one in danger of regret. Don’t insult my intelligence by implying I don’t know my own wants and needs.” He spears me with those intense eyes, tender one second and hard the next, a chameleon who knows what he needs to be and when he needs to be it. He’s masterful, and I love him so much it hurts. I shift between his legs, and the movement makes my cock rub along his slickened crease. He bucks back, chasing the sensation and moaning, and I know I’m so deep underwater that I can’t come back to the surface.

I sit up, and he spreads his legs.

“Don’t make me ask again.”

This time I match his smirk, and he seems to like that, nodding as if to say  _ there you are. I knew you were in there. _

The spell worked so well that I slide in easily, the sensation overwhelming. In a second’s time, I’m sheathed inside Scorpius, gorgeous, incomparable Scorpius who pulls me back down, urging me on with ardent hands on my arse and lips on my neck. I lift his bottom up off the bed, tilting his hips until I hit that spot inside him, and he cries out.

“I knew you’d fuck me like this,” he moans into my neck as I set a punishing pace. “Fuck — right there.”

I want to slow it down, but I can’t stop fucking into him, the noises he makes, the way he calls me  _ Draco,  _ making it dirty and precious all at once, making me want, want, want. 

“Is this what you wanted? My cock filling you up? My come inside you?”

“ _ Yes _ , Merlin, I’ve never — I don’t want anyone the way I want you. It fucking  _ hurts _ — it — it— ” He’s breathless, his words broken by the sounds of his pleasure, but I know what he means because it’s what I feel too.

We kiss, and it’s positively electric, swallowing each other’s groans as he pushes back onto my cock, meeting my every thrust. 

“Let me ride you,” he gasps as our lips separate, a wild look in his eye. I nod and pull out, settling onto my back. 

Scorpius sinking down onto my cock is a glorious picture I’m unprepared for. He splays his hands across my chest, and his eyes are fierce as he rocks back and forth. It’s where he should be; it’s his rightful position, mounting me like this and using my body to make him come. He speeds up, bouncing on my prick, so hot and fast that I know I’m going to come soon.

“Oh, Scorpius — just fucking look at you— ”

He throws his head back and rides me hard, obscenities tumbling out of his mouth as he fucks himself on my cock. There’s no room for shame when he calls me  _ Daddy _ again. I can’t think about anything but how amazing he looks when he says it, his eyes squeezed shut, his mouth hanging open. I reach for his cock, and his eyes fling open again.

“Yes yes, make me come. I want to come with you inside me. I fucking need— ” he’s cut off by his orgasm coming on sudden and powerful, his warm come coating us both, but his rhythm doesn’t stutter. He keeps riding me even though I can tell he’s over-sensitive now, a slight wince in his expression as he keeps rocking back and forth, up and down. I grab his hand and wrap it around my throat, knowing I might regret it. It makes him grin and bite his lip, and when I come, his hand squeezing my throat, my cock deep in his arse, my vision whites out. 

Scorpius gingerly rises on his knees, my softening cock leaving his body, a dribble of come running down his leg and onto my stomach. Neither of us tend to the mess. He curls into my side with a pleased hum, and I sling my arms around him. 

The room goes quiet, no more grunts and pornographic pleas filling the air, and although I’m awash in post-coital euphoria, I still feel the tendrils of worry creeping up.

“I better not catch you indulging in that tiresome concept people call regret,” Scorpius declares, biting the last word out like he finds the idea detestable. I laugh softly.

“There’s no one like you in all this world, Scorpius.”

“I know.” He goes silent, but after a beat he adds, “Black and white morality is awfully insipid. We don’t have any use for it… do we?”

He lifts his head, and I run my fingers through his mussed hair, a thrill running up my spine at the thought of how it came to be that way.

“No… it appears we don’t.”

He smiles and lowers his head to my chest, snuggling in once again. 

“Can I sleep here from now on?”

“Of course.” Our bodies fold together so well. Now that he’s here, I can’t imagine sleeping without him in my arms. I kiss the top of his head, and he sighs, squeezing my waist. I look down and see an unguarded smile on his face, no ulterior motive in it. “You look happy.”

“I am, you idiot.” 

I laugh at that. He laughs back, and although there’s nothing easy about what just happened between us, what’s  _ been _ happening, and what will happen yet… I feel at peace in a way I haven’t in quite some time, and I know he does too.

“Love you,” he mumbles, the words slurred as he drifts into sleep. 

“Love you too,” I whisper back, feeling eternally damned and helpless to stop it. 

I’ve always given Scorpius everything he wants. 

I’m not about to stop now. 

**Author's Note:**

> If you're disappointed that the Draco/Scorpius/Albus threesome didn't happen... it's on the way.


End file.
